Applejack's Garden
Here I have stood with my brothers, sisters, and children, for time beyond measure. The Earth beneath me has granted me nourishment, the Sky above has granted me water, and the Warmth has granted me energy. I stood here before the Walkers rose from the Earth to claim the world, and I have noted those endeavors of theirs that brought my interest within my Heartwood. My branches reach into the sky as my roots reach into the Earth, and my children grow amongst my branches to become brothers and sisters, to reach from Sky to Deep in the Great Mother's Song.
From my brothers and sisters I hear of the deeds of the Walkers, those who grew from the running forests to build great shapes upon the land. While my brothers and sisters are, for the most part, too young to recognize such things, I was here whilst they still ran on fours and did not speak. I have been aware of their growth. I have felt the touch of hands and hooves, and even the touch of the mind when some of the Walkers used mystic energies to take the children from my branches. I know the Walkers - amongst others - have claimed much of the world, and many of us are a part of their workings.
However, for a long time - a length I do not measure - this was of little moment to me. While I heard the words of the Walkers, tied them to concepts I knew, and noted them in my Heartwood, it was merely something to pass the time, a minor amusement. One flowering time I felt not the need to bring forth the buds that would become more children. Instead, I began to husband the life sap I had produced, biding against a great day that was coming for me. The day I would give birth to myself, and experience the world as more than I was.
This was the penultimate ambition of all of my kind, to one day prove worthy of giving birth to ourselves and awaken as spirits, the beings of Nature that wander the world. Not all would manage, this was known. All accepted that only few would be worthy, that most would die while still rooted, long before the great day. This was accepted, as it was part of the Great Mother's Song.
This all changed for me one day, when the little Walker laid her hand against my trunk. I had observed her before, as she wandered our grove with the larger Walkers, gathering the fruits that housed our children who might be. Often she came up to each of us and spoke words, though few noted them. But what she said to me this time changed a great many things.
"Hey, Giant George," she said quietly.
She was different from the other Walkers who resided in the dead wood that overlooked our grove. She chose to give each of us names, although only I saw fit to accept such appelation. It was something I could not quite explain, as the words for it were not yet inscribed in my heartwood.
"You've been here for a real long time, haven'tcha?"
Though I could not respond in a form she could understand, I found her statement amusing. I had been here in this spot for a very long time.
"Ah know yer probably starting to get on up there, and ya haven't made any apples these past few years."
Apples. This was the Walker word for the fruit that bore our children who might be. Her words were true, I had neither budded, flowered, nor fruited for some time as I husbanded my lifesap.
"Maw and Paw said that, if'n you don't make apples this year, we'll have ta cut you down."
Cut down. The words all of my kind fear, whether we know them or not. However, I feel only gentle regret. I am so close to my great day, but it appears I will prove unworthy. Such is the Way, as taught by the Great Mother's Song.
The Earth around my roots is disturbed, and rich soil and water are added. The little Walker speaks again. "Ah don't wanna see you cut down, Giant George. Ah know Paw said that we were havin' money troubles and need to make room for some new crops that'll help us stay afloat, but I don't wanna give up on ya. So I brought some good fertilizer to add around yer roots. Why ah bet if'n ya make a good harvest this year, Maw and Paw won't cut ya down after all."
These words hover in my heartwood, a realization I never contemplated before. Always I have accepted that my fate - whether or not I would last to give birth to myself - was beyond my ability to influence. But now the little Walker tells me I can change that, and effect my fate. It is a strange concept, nearly heretical...
But I will try.
I draw forth from my husbanded life sap, and push it out into my branches. It is time to see if I can make my own fate.
The little Walker has returned. She makes a great many happy noises as she sees the fruit I have produced.
"Ya did it, Giant George! I can't wait to tell Paw!"
The other Walkers return with her. At first they just stand there, but then one of the larger walkers approaches and strikes my trunk with his hoof. My fruit falls from my branches into his baskets. There is joy amongst the Walkers, and much praise of the little one.
For the next several Flowering times, I strain to put forth the flowers that will become fruit. While it is tiring, it is my chance to last long enough to reach my great day. I give my thanks to the little Walker, and I pray to the Great Mother that she might have a joyous and bountiful harvest.
The air in our grove has changed. While each and every one of us remains as content as ever, it seems as though the Walkers are less so. However, I strive to meet my obligations to the little Walker, to put forth new buds.
The larger Walker - the one who harvested the first fruit I produced for the little Walker - approaches me.
"Heya, George."
His voice sounds broken, like a brother who has been struck by the Sky's rage and can no longer grow, a sour note in the Great Mother's Song.
"Ah know Applejack was always coming here to talk to you, and she helped you make apples again somehow."
Applejack. In my heartwood, I recognize that that is a name. From the rest of his words, I know he speaks of the little Walker. It must be her name.
"Anyway, we decided that, what with our folks... well, you know what happened to them, right?"
I do not recognize the word 'folks', but I know that the two largest Walkers who live in the deadwood now lie beneath the Earth, to walk no more. Perhaps this is what he speaks of.
"Well, after that, Granny Smith and I decided it would be best for Applejack if she grew up with good parental role models, so we sent her to Manehatten to live with Aunt and Uncle Orange. She... asked me to come say goodbye to ya for her."
The little Walker - Applejack - she is no longer here? She is... gone? Will... will I be cut down, now? Is all our work for naught? My branches droop, and my flowers begin to fade.
His large hand pats my trunk. "I know, George. I miss her, too."
Miss? Is that the empty place in my heartwood, the hole in the shape of her hand on my trunk? Is that what it means?
I may be cut down soon... but somehow, I think that might be better than this feeling the Walkers call miss.
The little impacts against the ground, I feel them. They are so familiar. But she was sent away.
An impact against my trunk, and soft warmth suffuses the lifesap in my heartwood. "Hiya, Giant George. Miss me?"
It is the little Walker, Applejack. She has returned. I can feel the strength returning to my branches. I do not understand, but in this moment something fills me that makes the contentment of my brothers and sisters seem a pale shadow. I search my heartwood, and find that the Walkers have a word for this.
I am Joy.
"I tell ya, George, it's good to be home again. Bet yer wondering why I'm back when Big Macintosh told you I got sent to Manehatten?"
Big Macintosh. That must be the name of the larger Walker, who came to tell me Applejack's goodbye.
"Well, I was in Manehatten for a while, but I really didn't like it there. I could fit in, but I missed the farm real bad. Then one day, I saw a rainbow and it guided me straight home!"
I know not who this Rainbow is, but I sing her praises to the Great Mother, and beg of her to grant Rainbow a bountiful harvest by her blessing for bringing my friend home.
Friend? That word is in my heartwood, as I have heard the Walkers use it. I know its meaning. Is Applejack... my friend?
She must be. That is why I became Miss when she was gone, and have become Joy upon her return.
"George, I know you've been straining these past few years to put forth apples. It's cause of what I said about ya might get cut down if not right?"
I can say nothing, but it seems as though she knows what is in my heartwood.
"Well, take a look at this."
She is moving the cloth leaves that the Walkers cover their bodies with. I know not why.
"See? When I got back to the farm, I got my Cutie Mark. Acording to Granny, it means my special talnet must be taking care of Sweet Apple Acres, or something like that! She says that means I get to be in charge of the farm now!"
I recognize that this is important for her, but the slow movements of my heartwood are having difficulty processing the connection.
She makes the happy noise my heartwood recognizes as a 'chuckle'. "That means I get the say in who does and doesn't get cut down, and I say you stay up. You've been here my whole life, George, and I don't think it would be home without you. So take it easy now, ya hear? You've earned the rest."
I will remain standing. I am Joy in this regard. My friend has eased the burden of my efforts, as I may now return to husbanding my lifesap against my great day. Thank you, my friend.
"Welp, I'd better get back to the house. I need to help look after Apple Bloom, too. Good night, George!"
And good night to you also, my friend.
It has been some time since I once more began to husband my lifesap against my great day. I know not time in the way the Walkers do, but I know the my friend has grown somewhat bigger. She is no longer a little Walker. She has often come to sit amongst my roots, to tell me of her thoughts or simply to rest against my trunk. I have focused my awareness on each such moment. She approaches again.
She does not speak at first, but she does something she has not done since before she came to encourage a harvest from me. Placing hands and hooves against my trunk, she scales my height until she nestles amongst my upper branches. Only then does she speak.
"George, couldja make sure... nopony sees me?"
An odd request. I know not in what way the Walkers 'see', as it is a sense I currently lack. However, I do my best to do as she requests, letting the wind shift my branches around her.
I hear her shifting her cloth leaves. "The way that colt looked at me... it made me feel funny. Any idea what that was about, George?"
I wonder if she actually expects me to answer. I cannot, not in any form she can understand, but it is of no moment. I would not know what to say if I could.
"It made me feel kind of hot here... Oohhh..."
I do not understand the last sound she has made. However, the way she moves against my branches is unnerving, and possibly worrisome.
"And... I was all tingly down here... oh sweet betsy!"
She makes other noises I do not recognize, and I can find nothing in my heartwood to explain her noises or movements. Is she doing herself harm?
However, something in her noises and movements speaks to a part of my heartwood that has been dormant for some time. I remember the urge to flower; the sensation of the small creatures that flit between my flowers, bringing them to fruit; the satisfaction of first fruit, in the days beyond memory. These sensations fill me from my heartwood, warming my lifesap in a way I have not experienced since ancient times. Is... is she flowering?
"Oh George, what is this?"
Her exclamation stretches out on the last word, and dampness touches upon my branches in a manner unlike rain. I understand that the dampness came from Applejack, and it... the best description for the sense is that it 'tastes' of her. She breathes heavily for some time.
Some time later, she shifts her cloth leaves and climbs down from my branches. "Thanks for not letting anypony see, George. Don't know what I would have done if Big Mac or Apple Bloom had caught me up there."
Unlikely, as my brothers and sisters of the grove told me that the larger Walker - Big Macintosh - is on the opposite side of the grove, and the littlest one - presumably Apple Bloom - is in the deadwood with the Walker who is older than the youngest of the brothers and sisters. However, I would have given her some warning if they had approached.
"I guess I'll ask Granny what that was all about. Maybe she can tell me, she's been around for ever. I need to get back to my chores, anyway."
Granny. She spoke before of Granny Smith. She must be the oldest Walker.
As my friend returns to the deadwood, I find myself... uncertain. The heat in my lifesap has not diminished, and I do not understand it. I send a prayer forth to the Great Mother, in the hopes that she might know what has happened. But deep in my heartwood... I find I wish for the answer to come from my friend instead.
And why did my lifesap pulse so strongly when she called to me at the end?
It has been some time since I sent my prayer to the Great Mother. Still I have no response. Only the Song gives me guidance, although very little. Many events have occured in Applejack's life since that day, and each major event she came to my roots or branches to share with me.
When the Warmth failed to return in the normal cycle, she told me of how the return of a Princess had interrupted the flow of the day, and how she and her friends had worked together to restore the proper balance. The Great Mother found this incident of note, and added her voice to the song for the first time in my memory.
She spoke to me of how she and her friends would journey to a great capitol - which she called Canterlot - where many ponies gathered for a great event. She planned to spread the fruit that bore our children to be to many mouths there.
I heard from other trees of the effort she put forth during the time of Big Macintosh's injury, and I felt the antics of her friends when they came to her aid. She spoke of many such events with her friends, of griffons, of showmares, of dragons, of sleepovers, of zebras, of parasprites and winter's antics. She spoke of her sister's obsession with finding her Cutie Mark, and of the friends she had made doing so.
She told me much of the journey she took to a far land to place one of our number - whom she called Bloomberg - in a new grove, and how doing so brought peace between two races. I asked the Great Mother to watch over Bloomberg in his new Earth.
Many other events she spoke of, but time for her moves so fast, it is hard for me to distinguish one conversation from another. However, I remember her last speaking to me most clearly.
"Heya George, you got a minute?"
I have plenty, though I still do not understand why this is important to ask.
"I don't know if you noticed, but it was the Apple Family Reunion just the other day, and I planned it this time around."
I noticed a great deal of noise recently. Perhpas this is what she speaks of. My brothers and sisters tell me there were a great many more Walkers in the grove then there normally are.
"The entire Apple Family was here. I tried to make it one nopony would ever forget." She 'chuckles'. "I think I succeeded there."
I find I have no thoughts on this part.
"It's just... seeing everypony gathered, when it is the WHOLE family... it made me think about those that weren't."
...
"Maw... Paw... I wish they could have seen it."
She leans against my trunk, and I taste salty wetness.
"I miss them, George... I miss them so much..."
She shakes against me. I understand what is going on. Well do I know what it means to be Miss.
"I try, I try so hard. To be strong, to take care of the farm and Apple Bloom... But I just... I just wish someties that somepony would take care of me for a change... is that so wrong?"
It is not wrong, Applejack. Everything that lives desires nurturing.
I let some of my leaves fall upon her shoulders. She laughs.
"And there I go getting you upset and losing leaves. What am I thinking? You've always been here for me, haven't you? Always."
...
"Thanks, George. You always help me feel better. I'm not gonna cry anymore. Got too much to do, ya know?"
She returns to the deadwood. I am glad that I have helped her, but I wish... I wish I could help her more. But what can I do? She is one of the Walkers... and I am just a tree.
I feel my entire form shudder, from the depths of my heartwood to the tips of my roots, to the edge of my branches and the top of my crown. I do not recognize this sensation. I am afraid.
The spirits gather, the ones who have given birth to themselves. They come to offer comfort and welcome me to their numbers. I see the time has come. I am about to give birth to myself.
I am becoming an elemental.
The first sensation I am aware of is the wind against my bark. It is much stronger and more stimulating than it has been before. My crown waves differently than before, and my roots feel uncomfortably flat. My branches are far fewer than before, but much stronger. I turn towards the Warmth.
The pain! Why does the Warmth hurt? I raise my branch to ward against the pain.
Darkness seems to fall, but it is not night. The pain receeds. The other spirits speak to me, explaining what is happening. I am seeing. The pain was from light upon eyes. I write this knowledge upon my heartwood.
The spirits comment that my form is different, unlike what they have ever seen. They say it resembles the Walkers, and presume that I might move amongst them should I choose. They warn me to avoid observation at first, as the resemblance is not perfect. They guide me to a lake so I might see what they mean.
I follow their directions, rising to stand on my roots, which fall flatly upon the Earth, the impact reminding me of the impact of the Walker's hooves against my trunk to shake free the fruit for the harvest. It seems my roots now end in the shape of hooves. I examine my branches and roots. I now have only two of each, of equal thickness. My bark remains the same texture as before, and the spirits tell me it is the same color, although color is a new concept to me. My branches end in the shape I recognize as hands. I will learn to use them.
I reach the lake and gaze upon my own face. It is a shape similar to the Walker's, the other elementals tell me, with the same somewhat lengthened muzzle, the same shape of nose and mouth - things I will learn of in time, I am sure. My crown now cascades down the back of my trunk, a wave of thin vine-like branches ending in leaves. My eyes as green as my leaves in spring. It is odd to gaze upon myself, as though seeing myself from outside.
I stand and stretch my form, feeling the tension of the wood within my arms, stretching and flexing. I see the knots at what I recognize as joints, shaping the points at which my form can fold upon itself. I find myself full of energy.
I run. I race beneath the outstretched branches of my brothers and sisters, feeling the wind cascade across my body, revelling in the sensation of movement. The elementals say it is odd to have a fixed physical form after rebirth, but it is the most wonderous experience I could have imagined, to feel the wind in my leaves and bark as I run for the joy of running.
I race around the grove for a time, no eagerness to move beyond it within me. Glancing towards the sky, I see the shape of two Walkers flying by. I remember that some of the Walkers are capable of flight. I shall learn the terms eventually.
Although I have not tired, I lean my hand against one of my brothers. He had been ailing, but Applejack had excised the sickened portion of his form, and he was recovering. His flowers, however, were not budding well. I lend hm some of my strength. He bursts into bloom.
I smile, seeing what I can do for my brothers and sisters now that I am like this. However, in my heartwood, I wonder if Applejack would be happy with this.
As I think of her, the words rise from my heartwood, and I know I must go to her. There are things I must say, must ask, must learn. I ask my brothers and sisters where I might find her. They tell me she is with her friends, approaching my shell, the dead wood I have left behind.
The Warmth - the Walkers call it the sun - has fallen in the sky since I departed my shell. Some time has passed, but I quickly approach the site. However, I remain back. While I would gladly reveal myself to Applejack, her friends are another story. I do not know them as I know her.
She stands in front of my shell, looking downward. Her friends stand around her. There is silence.
"Applejack?" the purple one asks. "Is everything alright?"
"... he's gone," Applejack replies. "I... I thought he had another season or two. I-I knew he wouldn't make any apples, he hasn't for years, but I thought he could at least make it through to winter. I was gonna wrap him up tight so he'd make it through the winter. I... I'd hoped... I'd hoped George would be here longer."
She speaks of my shell. She thinks I am dead. She doesn't know I have given birth to myself. When her friends have left, I will go to her to reassure her.
"AJ..." The blue one with a rainbow crown is speaking. "Are you going to be okay?"
"I don't know, Rainbow."
So that is Rainbow, the one who guided her home.
"I know you think they're just trees," Applejack continues, "and I make too much fuss over them, but Giant George, he-"
"AJ," Rainbow interrupts, laying a hand on her shoulder. "I said that before I had Tank. I don't get what it is between you and the trees, but I... kinda have a glimmering."
Applejack nods. "He's been here my whole life. I just... I don't know what to do now. It's like... part of my world just vanished."
"Applejack," the white one speaks. "Are you going to be alright, darling?"
"...I don't know..."
The yellow one with the pink crown speaks quietly. "Do... do you want to be alone, Applejack? We could have our picnic another time, if that's better for you..."
The purple one approaches my shell. "An old, strong tree," she says, resting her hand against it. "Have you made any plans as far as his... final disposition?"
Applejack shakes her head. "I don't know, Twi. I mean, I can't just leave him here to rot away and feed the bugs... but I just can't picture the farm without him standing there. Could... could you all just give me some time? I'll... I'll see ya all tomorrow."
There are nods all around, and they bid farewells and walk away... save the pink one. As the others leave, she wraps her arms around Applejack, offering comfort, then slowly walks away. However, as she passes my hiding spot, she turns to look in my direction. I know she cannot see me, but for some reason, her lips part and she shows all her teeth. She lets out a quiet gasp as she leaps into the air and dashes out of the grove.
The elementals warn me to be wary of that one. She has abilities they cannot grasp.
I watch as Applejack leans against my former shell. I hear her speak. "George... why'd you have to go?"
The time is now. I step towards her, and make my first attempts at speech. "A-applejack..."
She leaps upright, spinning to face me... and for the first time, I see her.
Her body is covered in a light coating of orange fur, and her crown is as golden as the wheat fields. Her eyes are as green as I saw my own to be, and her muzzle is patterned with a light coating of freckles. The cloth leaves that cover her form are a dark blue, of the sort my heartwood identifies as 'overalls'. The blessings of the earth have been bountiful to her, and as I gaze upon her, for the first time I recognize a concept I had never grasped before. In her, I see the Earth's Beauty, shining like the dawn.
For a time I simply gaze upon her, but then I notice she is looking upon me in fear. Her scent tells me so, as I etch the expression on her face into my heartwood so I may connect the face with the emotion. I hold up my hands, attempting to show a lack of harmful intentions. "Don't be afraid," I request, my voice soft. "I mean you no harm."
She stares at me for a time. "Who are you?" she asks, her voice quivering. "Where did you come from?"
I wonder how I can answer to fully explain. Perhaps a shared memory? "How many times have you sat amongst my roots, or in my branches, to tell me stories of what has happened in your life? How often have you come to me to share your thoughts, your feelings?" I walk up to my old shell. "Still I remember the first time, when you brought me rich soil and encouraging words, promising that your Maw and Paw would not cut me down if I produced fruit that harvest time."
She is silent, her eyes wide. She doesn't seem to understand. I continue with another memory. "When Big Macintosh said that you were sent away, I wilted, because I misssed you. I was joy when you returned, and wished a bountiful harvest to Rainbow, the friend who guided you home. And how relieved I was when you told me I would not have to struggle to make more fruit, as your decision was that I would always stand here."
She seems to falter, her expression changing to a different kind of fear. "It can't be..." she whispers.
I smile as I continue. "I remember the time you climbed into my crown, and asked me to make sure nopony could see you. You mentioned that a colt had looked at you, and you felt funny. I believe you were beginning to flower that day."
Her face turns a bright red. "You didn't have to bring that up." Her eyes widened. "But wait, how could you possibly...?"
I continue with the most recent, most poignant moment. "Not so long ago, you came to me after the family left, and shed salt water against my trunk. You miss your Maw and Paw. I shed my leaves upon your shoulders to try and offer comfort, though you thought you had distressed me." I smile at her... and walk through my old shell, phasing through it as only I can now. She gasps as I appear on the other side. "And then I was born from myself, in the form you now see, leaving my empty shell behind."
She stares at me in awe. "G-giant George? Is it really you?"
I nod. "My true self, free from rooting to the Earth, to wander as I choose... or not."
She walks up to me, one hand outstretched. She flinches away for a moment, then places her hand against my trunk, where we both can feel the pulse of my lifesap. She smiles shakily. "I... I remember the feel of your bark. It's... it's the same. But, you're warmer."
I smile in return. I rest my hand on her shoulder. "I am here now, for you." I move my hand slightly. I see her wince as my rough bark tugs on her flesh. I do not want her to hurt when I touch her. My bark smooths.
She gasps. "How'd you do that?"
I smile wider. "This form exists by my will. I did not want my touch to bring you pain." As I gently rub her shoulder, I realize that - as before - my bark can taste her. She tastes of deep earth, rich soil, spring water and sunlight. She tastes of life, of the moment of my rebirth. But the taste of her arm is somewhat different than the taste of her shoulder. It has more strength, and less bone. I find I want to taste the rest of her.
She stares at me for a time. Then she speaks. "You said you were free to wander, or not. Why wouldn't you want to wander?"
"Because you said this place would not be home if I was not here."
She lets out a small gasp. "George... what are ya saying?"
Inside my heartwood, new instincts awaken for this new form. "I am here... for you." Placing my hands on either side of her face, I bring her face to mine and place my lips against hers.
It is a different sensation of taste, as I feel her against me in ways I could not imagine. My heartwood stirs, and my lifesap accelerates its rythm.
She pulls back from me. "G-george? Why'dja kiss me?"
I blink. "Should I not have?"
"Well, kissing's something done between two ponies who are a couple. You know, with somepony special."
I tilt my head. "Then you... have somepony special? Somepony you want to kiss?"
She looks away, her face redder than before. "Well... no. I've been so busy taking care of the farm and Apple Bloom I really haven't had time for romance. I've never really looked."
I cup her cheek in my hand. "Then let me ease both those burdens. Let me be here to help you care for the trees. Let me be here to care for your needs. To care for your heart."
Her eyes waver as she stares at me. "George... are you saying what I think you're saying?"
I step towards her, resting my hands on her shoulders. "May I?"
Slowly, biting her lip, she at last nods.
I lean in and once more place my lips against hers. I relish her taste, the taste of life that has warmed me since my days of rooting. Finally I understand why she brought such warmth to my lifesap, like a fire on the inside. This is what we had both been waiting for, though we had not known.
She wraps her arms around me, pressing her body against my trunk. I wrap my branches around her, letting my hands gently stroke her back. Her lips part, and something soft and warm timidly strokes against my lips. I find my own mouth parting, and something within extends to meet her. As they touch, a spark like the Sky's Wrath jumps between us, and I feel the connection beyond imagining as I taste her tasting me.
After a time neither of us sought to measure, we slowly parted. She stared up into my eyes, and I saw in them two emotions I knew, one better than the other. The first was one I now knew to be love, a love we shared. The second, though, I felt had something to do with the scent of fertile soil that poured from her body, and put me in mind of the fresh blooms that filled the grove.
From between where my roots met my trunk, I felt my heartwood extend beyond my bark, to press against her thigh.
Her face reddened as she glanced down. "Gracious," she muttered, seeming unsure how to react. One strap of her overalls slipped off her shoulder. She moved to resettle it, her movement showing an odd reluctance.
Reaching out, I stopped her hand. I reached over and slid the other strap off her shoulder, and slowly slid the cloth down her body. As the cloth fell away, she stood before me in the moonlight, as bare to the world as I was.
Slowly, she crossed one arm across her chest, while lowering her other hand to between her legs, seeming to try and inadiquately cover herself. With a reassuring smile, I run my hands slowly over her body, tasting her form as I sought to find all the subtle variations. I noticed that those places that tasted somewhat sweeter - the back of her ear, the base of her neck, the inside of her joints - elicited a small gasp from her, and continued movements a small moan.
As I moved my hands down to her flank, I tasted magic. I turned my head to see what I was tasting, and saw three red apples arranged there.
Seeing me staring, she smiles. "It's my Cutie Mark," she says. "Don't you remember me showing it to you?"
"I did not have eyes then," I reply, placing my palm against the mark and turning my hand, to fully appreciate the taste of her Cutie Mark, letting my fingers stroke against her flesh to further taste.
She lets out a throaty moan, a sound that hearkens me back to the noises she made as she lay amongst the branches of my crown so long ago. The hand that sat between her legs turned, and she grasps my heartwood gently.
The sensation of another touching my heartwood - the core of my being - is a new one, and I find myself letting out a quiet gasp not unlike her own. She grins at me, and begins to polish my heartwood with her fingers.
It is all I can do to maintain my thoughts. The sensation is unlike any other in my existence. But it is not enough. I want more. I bring my hand around to taste her where she hid from me, where my heartwood's new instincts tell me the taste from all those years ago came from. As I find that wonderous taste once more, my finger is sucked into her.
The noise she lets out is half gasp and half scream. Her arm falls from across her chest, grasping my shoulder. She seems to be trying to hold herself up. Ever curious, I bring my other hand up to the soft mounds of flesh that hang invitingly from her torso, gently grasping them as I taste her.
She moans once more. "Oh George," she whispers. It seems to be all the words she can manage.
As I taste her, I notice a small nub rising from the mound of flesh, becoming stiff. I gently prod the nub, running my finger around it to taste it. I notice her breath coming in ragged gasps now. Remembering how different the sensation of taste was with my mouth, I lower my head to the other mound - where another nub has risen - and proceed to taste.
While the difference in taste is hard to describe, the difference in the noises she makes is easily recognizable. "Oh sweet Celestia!" she gasps. "George, please stop teasing. I want you now!"
While I am unsure of her meaning as I raise my head to face her, it seems my body knows more than my mind. My hands move down to grip her just under her thighs, spreading her legs. She places her hands on my shoulders, steadying herself. Slowly, I guide my heartwood to the opening my hand found before, and I slowly slip inside.
I can only gasp as she lets out a scream. The feeling of her warm pressure around my heartwood, the dampness of her sap gripping me as I resided within her. These were sensations I could not begin to describe even if I knew the words. Once more, my body acts of its own volition, and I slowly pull myself most of the way back out of her, before sliding back in.
Each new thrust brings a new pleasurable sensation, another ragged gasp from me, another moan or scream from her. Although I started slow, and tried to stay slow to better etch the experience onto my heartwood, I soon find myself increasing pace.
Once more she presses her lips to mine. The kiss enhances the moment of connection, the feeling of oneness. The heat within me becomes almost unbearable, as a similar fire builds within her to the point she is almost too hot to touch.
The speed has moved beyond my control, and the heat has reached a fever pitch. Everything is building up to a critical point, when suddenly she breaks the kiss. Wrapping her arms around my shoulders, she presses her body against me. "George, I'm coming!"
I do not understand the words, but as I feel her entire body clench as she screams. Within moments, the pressure that has built within me erupts, and seed spills from my heartwood into her waiting flower.
As the pressure eases with release, she falls limp against me. Her heavy breathing begins to slow. "You'll... you'll always be here for me, right?" she asks quietly.
I lower us to the grass beneath my old branches, amongst my old roots. "Yes. I will."
She curls up against me, nuzzling my chest. "What... what should I do with your tree?" she asks, her question interrupted by a yawn.
I shrug my shoulders as I wrap my branches - my arms - around her. "Do with it what you will. It is of no more use to me."
Nodding sleepily, she nestles against me and slips into slumber. I remain gazing down at her, awaiting my own time of dreams.
I know that her soil was fertile, but I made sure this time that my seed was not. After all, as little as I know of her kind and their ways, I know it is too soon to be planting time.
